Dreams of a Dead Man
by Sable Supernova
Summary: Oliver and Katie were perfectly... normal, until Oliver began to have dreams, and those dreams began to get in the way... OneShot.


**Written for:**  
 _Writing Bingo: Love Triangle: Fred/Oliver/Katie_  
 _200 Prompts in 100 stories - Oliver - Dreamless Sleep Potion_  
 _School of Prompts - crimson_  
 _Greek Mythology Challenge - Aphrodite - write about adultery_  
 _Ultimate Chocolate Frog Challenge - Elladora Ketteridge - Write about betrayal._  
 _The Taylor Swift Challenge - The Way I Loved You_  
 _Huge TV Show Quotes Bucket - "I know you're lonely; I think you need someone to want you. Well, I do want you. So be brave, and want me back." - Emily, Skins._  
 _One Prompt, Many Fandoms Challenge - Broaden Your Horizons - For HP, write something you've never written before. - Okay, this one may surprise you, but I've never written Oliver or Katy before, let alone the Fred/Oliver/Katie thing. So I hope you like it!_  
 _Words: 1024_

* * *

" _He can't see the smile I'm faking,  
And my heart's not breaking,  
_' _Cause I'm not feeling anything at all.  
And you were wild and crazy,  
Just so frustrating, intoxicating,  
Complicated, got away by some mistake and now…"_

 _\- Taylor Swift - The Way I Loved You_

* * *

 **Dreams of a Dead Man**

Katie and Oliver made a wonderful couple. That's what everyone said. They were the postcard picture, the couple in the magazines. As high-flying Quidditch players, they knew what to say in interviews and how to smile for the cameras. They were good at playing the lovers-at-war angle when their teams faced each other, him in his crimson robes and her in blue.

But when the doors were shut and the curtains were closed, life was quite different from how it appeared. It wasn't that they fought. They almost never did. They never played games with each other. In fact, there was nothing _bad_ about the relationship at all.

For Oliver, that was exactly the problem. Everything was easy, fine, okay - and it was stifling. It felt, to him, like they'd been out in a boat at sea for four years, and every single day had been accented by plain sailing weather. For a long time, he didn't see that anything was wrong about the arrangement. It was easier to stay together, safer, than risk dying alone. Especially when it was all okay.

Then the dreams came. At first, he thought nothing of it. They only happened every once in a while, and he could shake it off by telling his wife he was dreaming of her. It confused her a little, but she accepted it.

It took him three months to realise they weren't going to go away. They weren't just dreams, they were memories that grew stronger, more vivid, as time went by. They came more often and began to pervade his waking moments.

He thought the worst part was that he couldn't talk about it. No one had known at the time… It felt like he would be corrupting the memory of a good and honourable man to talk about it now.

But those nights wouldn't leave him alone.

When he'd called out Fred's name in his sleep one night, Katie had woken him with a look of pity and sadness. She'd mistaken the strain in his voice for anguish, the urgency for grief. She'd made him a hot cocoa and sat up with him until he fell back asleep.

He tried not to wake her again after that. He bought some Dreamless Sleep Potion, hoping it would do the trick, hit the right spot. It dulled them a little. They were less lifelike. But they were still there.

* * *

 _A young Oliver was sat on the floor, back against the stone, in a disused corridor of the dungeons. He barely looked up when Fred rounded the corner and sat beside him. Most people didn't even realise they were friends, but the two of them… they knew the truth, even if they were too scared to admit it._

" _How d'you find me?" Oliver asked._

" _Katie and Angelina were checking the Quidditch pitch. I think I know you better than that," Fred smiled._

" _How d'you figure that one?" Oliver asked, looking up, curious and confused._

" _The Quidditch Pitch is where you're most at home, at your best, right? And I figured you weren't exactly feeling at your best. People don't take off on their own when they're feeling good. So you wouldn't be at the Quidditch Pitch. And the only thing I could think of that was the opposite of flying was going underground," Fred explained. "So what's going on?"_

 _Oliver sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. "I don't know, mate. Honestly, I just feel… weird. I don't know how to explain it."_

" _I think I get it," Fred replied._

" _You do?" Oliver asked, looking up hopefully. "Could you explain it to me?"_

" _I know you're lonely; I think you need someone to want you," Fred began, but he paused and drew in a breath, as if steeling his courage. "Well, I do want you. So be brave, and want me back."_

 _It was Oliver's turn to draw in a breath. It felt both completely out of the blue and fine. Before he had time to overthink anything, he leant forward and replied with a hard, bruising kiss, hoping it would be the first of many._

* * *

The first memory was the most bittersweet. He looked back at it with a painful warmth in his heart; it was easier to see, with hindsight, how quickly it had escalated. It hadn't seemed to matter at the time. If they were happy, nothing mattered, did it?

It was a Sunday when Katie asked him to sit down. She had a stern look on her face that Oliver assumed meant trouble. He'd certainly never seen it off the Quidditch pitch before.

"We need to talk," she said, her voice monotone.

"What about?" Oliver asked, mock cheeriness in his tone.

"Fred."

He couldn't even keep up his fake smile anymore. He knew the day was coming; he didn't realise it was here.

"What about him?" Oliver asked the floor as his eyes trained downwards.

"Your relationship with him." Katie's bluntness cut him.

"He's dead. You can't have a relationship with a dead man," Oliver bit back.

"Really? Because I'd say you're doing a really good job of trying," Katie snapped back. Oliver looked at her in shock, and she crumbled in his gaze. "I'm sorry. That was… really harsh."

"Yeah," Oliver replied.

"I just don't understand. He died five years ago, and you weren't even that close. It doesn't make sense how cut up you are about it," she admitted. "Unless I don't know all the facts."

Oliver said nothing, allowing his silence to speak for him.

"I thought… It can't…" Katie sighed. "It's true. I am fighting for your attention with a ghost."

"Katie, it's not like that," Oliver began.

"Yes, it is. Tell me, who do you love more? Me or him?"

Her eyes fixed on him, taking in every emotion that crossed his face. He stuttered once or twice, trying to give her the answer she wanted. He couldn't. The one thing she needed to hear, he couldn't give her. He sighed, ashamed.

"I thought so," she whispered, as if her heart was breaking right in front of them, before standing up to leave.

Oliver didn't follow her.

* * *

 **Please let me know what you think!**


End file.
